


Ants Go Marching

by Agapostemon



Series: Steady As the Stars in the Woods [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Bugs & Insects, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Lotor & Friends are terrible 8-year-olds, Matt Holt has PTSD, Roommates, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-13 09:50:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11757309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: Keith returns home to the overpowering scent of death and vanilla, accompanied by the sight of Shiro aiming a Febreze can at the living room ceiling fan.“Are you sure this is a good idea?” quips Matt from the kitchen table. He’s sitting next to a large glass tank, which Keith doesn’t remember seeing before. Is there a dead animal in there? Weird, but… this is Matt Holt. Weird is to be expected.-------5 Times the Staff of Altea Nature Sanctuary Encountered Arthropods





	1. Homewarming Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Content Warnings: Cursing, description of a panic attack/flashback, lots of talk about bugs and their relatives
> 
> Characters/Ages/Roles:  
> Coran - 54 - Assistant Camp Director  
> Slav - 53 - Guest Educator  
> Ryner - 49 - Groundskeeper  
> Shiro - 24 - High School Camp Counselor  
> Matt - 24 - High School Camp Counselor  
> Allura - 23 - Camp Director  
> Shay - 22 - Elementary Camp Counselor  
> Keith - 20 - Middle School Camp Counselor  
> Hunk - 20 - Elementary Camp Counselor  
> Lance - 19 - Beachfront Educator  
> Pidge - 19 - Middle School Camp Counselor  
> Lotor & Friends - 7 to 8 - Elementary Campers
> 
> (Some of these characters won't show up until later chapters)

> **Matt (3:07pm): i’m bringing home a housewarming gift!!**
> 
> _Shiro: For who? Me? Keith? Yourself?_
> 
> **Matt: all of the above**
> 
> _Shiro: I’m not sure whether I should be excited or suspicious._
> 
> **Matt: both. definitely both.**

Not long after, Shiro is greeted by the click of the front door opening, followed by the stench of roadkill wafting through their small 3-bedroom apartment.

“Matt, what the _hell_?” Shiro shouts as he peeks out of his room. Standing in the doorway, kicking off his shoes and grinning like a maniac, is Matt. In his arms is a 10-gallon terrarium containing a very, _very_ dead opossum. Shiro groans, “Please tell me this isn’t the housewarming gift.”

Matt cackles, “Oh, this is absolutely the housewarming gift. Come meet our new pets!”

Shiro gives his best friend a dubious look, “What did I tell you about adopting zombie possums?”

Matt rolls his eyes as he makes his way over to the kitchen table to set the terrarium down, “Not the opossum, doofus! They’re dermestid beetles. Come say hi. They’re gonna help us start a bone collection! Aren’t you, little guys?” He stoops down to smile in at the beetles.

Shiro groans again, “Matt! We live in an apartment! What made you think a tank full of roadkill-eating beetles was a good idea?”

Matt shrugs, “I dunno. Kinda figured your duckling would get a kick out of ‘em.”

Shiro’s face softens. Matt is right: bone-cleaning beetles are right up Keith’s alley. Unfortunately. Which means these crawly new roommates and their roadkill buffet are probably here to stay. He sighs. Matt grins.

\-----------

Keith returns home to the overpowering scent of death and vanilla, accompanied by the sight of Shiro aiming a Febreze can at the living room ceiling fan.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” quips Matt from the kitchen table. He’s sitting next to a large glass tank, which Keith doesn’t remember seeing before. Is there a dead animal in there? Weird, but… this is Matt Holt. Weird is to be expected.

“Trust me,” says Shiro, “This is going to be _so fucking efficient_.” He glances over at Keith, who’s still standing by the door, “Hey Keith, watch this.” And with that, he sprays the Febreze directly into the fan and immediately doubles over, coughing uncontrollably and rubbing at his eyes with his left hand.

“Good one, Shiro,” snorts Keith as he removes his boots. Matt cackles uncontrollably in the kitchen as Shiro continues to sputter and wheeze.

After a moment, though, Keith notices the panic in his friend’s eyes and drops his smirk. “Shiro?” he asks, stepping closer, “You okay?”

“Can’t breathe,” Shiro gasps in response.

“Oh, shit,” realization dawns on Matt’s face, and he scrambles over to Shiro’s side, placing a hand on his friend’s back, “Hey, you’re alright. You’re safe. We’re at the new apartment and you sprayed Febreze at the fan like an absolute dumbass, but you’re not suffocating.”

Shiro nods, but his panic doesn’t seem to wane. He looks like he’s on the verge of tears

Keith frowns, “Let’s… go to a different room.”

Matt nods in agreement, and they lead Shiro to his bedroom together. As soon as they arrive, Shiro sinks onto his bed and continues gulping for air, tiny sobs coming out between gasps.

Matt takes a seat beside him, “Let’s breathe together, alright? There’s plenty of air in this room.”

Shiro gives a jerky nod, so Matt begins to take deep, slow breaths, counting with each breath in and out. At first, Shiro struggles to steady his erratic breathing. But Matt persists, and eventually Shiro manages to match his rhythm. Once he’s finally calm, Shiro melts backwards onto his bed until he’s laying spread-eagle, legs still dangling off the edge of the bed.

Keith, still standing in the bedroom doorway with his arms crossed, shakes his head, “I’ll never understand how that calms you down. Just listening to it gets me riled up.”

“Listen,” says Matt, reaching over to tousle Shiro’s bangs, “It’s very useful when you’re having a panic attack and think you’re about to be suffocated by a buttload of snow.”

“It’s useful for other things, too,” Shiro pipes up, not even bothering to open his eyes, “Don’t let Matt convince you it’s some kind of avalanche-survivor exclusive coping skill.”

Matt cups a hand beside his mouth and whispers loudly, “It’s _totally_ an avalanche-survivor exclusive coping skill.”

“Well, _some_ of us found it useful even _before_ getting buried in snow,” Shiro quips, the corner of his mouth turning up in a weak smile.

Keith rolls his eyes, “Anyways, do I get an explanation for all this, or…”

“We have some new pets!” Matt blurts out. Shiro groans.

Keith squints, “Are they… alive?”

“They are!” Matt nods enthusiastically, “But their food isn’t. Which is why it smells like—”

“Death and vanilla,” Keith snorts.

“Actually,” says Shiro, “I’m starting to think death and vanilla might be synonymous. Seeing as vanilla just tried to murder me.”

Matt rolls his eyes at Shiro, then turns back to Keith with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face, “So, d’you wanna meet ‘em?”

“Sure,” Keith shrugs.

“Cool!” Matt says, standing up, “C’mon, they’re in the kitchen.”

“You two go on without me,” Shiro groans from the bed as his friends exit the room.

\-----------

When Shiro ventures out to the kitchen to make himself some tea about 20 minutes later, he can’t help but smile as he listens to his best friends marvel over their new pets.

“I can’t believe we have our own personal colony,” Keith is saying, his nose inches away from the terrarium glass, “One of my professors—back before I… back when I was a student—had a huge colony in her lab. I watched them clean off an entire stag. It was… pretty amazing.”

Matt laughs, “Well, I don’t think this little colony’s gonna be cleaning off any stags, but we can totally cover your room in bird and raccoon skulls! It’s a good aesthetic for you. You can be The Bone Guy.”

Keith smirks, “I like it. The Bone Guy.”

“You two are weird,” Shiro interjects, ruffling Keith’s hair as he walks by, “I’m glad you’re having a good time. Please put the death beetles in one or the other of your bedrooms. No roadkill on the kitchen table.”

“Awww,” Matt pouts, “But they’re eating! Isn’t that what kitchen tables are for? Eating?”

“They can live in my room,” Keith volunteers, a bit too eagerly.

Shiro chuckles and takes a sip of his tea, “Have at it, buddy. It’s nice to see you happy again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiro's brilliant Febreeze idea was inspired by [this Tumblr post](https://a-fragile-sort-of-anarchy.tumblr.com/post/151468620503/my-boss-who-is-a-grown-woman-with-children-my).


	2. Crabby Crabby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance spins around to find Narti unwittingly reaching towards a 6-inch-wide blue crab. He gasps and lunges forward, plucking up the crab and holding it by the edges of its carapace to minimize the chances of being pinched. “Well _hello_ beautiful,” he says, batting his eyes at the crab.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warnings: Lots of talk about bugs and their relatives, harm to animals (fish and invertebrates), minor s3 spoilers (AU versions of characters that arrive in s3)
> 
> Characters/Ages/Roles:  
> Coran - 54 - Assistant Camp Director  
> Shay - 22 - Elementary Camp Counselor  
> Hunk - 20 - Elementary Camp Counselor  
> Lance - 19 - Beachfront Educator  
> Lotor & Friends - 7 to 8 - Elementary Campers

“Here come the fishies!” screeches Ezor as Lance and Hunk pull the seine net up onto the beach. She may be part of Lotor’s awful gang of 8-year-olds, but at least she has enough enthusiasm to fuel the entire camp.

“I wonder how long they can survive out of the water,” muses Lotor, casting a smirk in Acxa’s direction.

“Only one way to find out,” she responds.

Ready to help answer her friends’ question, Narti stoops down and feels around for the nearest fish, which she picks up and dangles in the air. She holds up her stuffed cat, Kova, to sniff at her catch.

“Wow, what a cool little silverside you found!” announces Lance, swooping in with a bucket of seawater, “Wanna plop your new friend in the bucket?”

Narti defiantly turns away from the sound of his voice.

“Awww, come on!” Lance whines, reaching for the suffering silverside, “Don’t be a meanie-head! You know they can’t breathe out of the water.”

A few feet away, Shay is attempting to tell a cluster of elementary schoolers about comb jellies, but one of them seems more interested in squashing them than appreciating them.

“Zethrid,” Hunk scolds quietly, trying not to interrupt Shay’s lesson, “Look with your eyes, not with your hands.”

“Squish!” Zethrid announces in response, bits of gelatinous animal oozing out between her fingers.

“Hey!” Lance yelps, turning to Zethrid, “Not _again_!”

“Uggghh, this is the third time today. I think it’s time for a time-out,” Hunk groans, turning to Lance and Shay, “You guys okay managing the masses for a few minutes?”

“You know it!” Lance responds with finger guns and a click of his tongue.

“Cool, okay. Yell if you need me,” Hunk says, guiding a disappointed Zethrid to sit down a couple yards away, where there are less readily-available animals to smash.

A split second later, Ezor yelps, “Narti, no!”

Lance spins around to find Narti unwittingly reaching towards a 6-inch-wide blue crab. He gasps and lunges forward, plucking up the crab and holding it by the edges of its carapace to minimize the chances of being pinched. “Well _hello_ beautiful,” he says, batting his eyes at the crab before turning to hold his find up for the kids to see, “Hey guys, look at this lovely lady we caught! See the orange on her tummy? That means she’s a mama with eggies!”

The kids ooh and ahh, and Lance looks down at the crab with a grin, “Okay, pretty girl, let’s put you back in the—AAAAAAA OW OW OW HOLY CROW BUTTS _HECK_!” Lance yowls as the crab reaches up and latches onto his nose.

Chaos erupts immediately. Most of the campers rush to Lance’s side, either to comfort him or to try and touch the crab. Zethrid howls with laughter in the distance.

“Friends, friends, let us return the rest of these poor creatures to the sea before they suffocate,” Shay steps in, trying to divert some of the chaos away from Lance as he scrambles to detach the crab from his face. A handful of children join her in dumping fish and invertebrates back into the ocean while the rest continue to crowd around Lance.

Hunk arrives a moment later with Zethrid in tow and his phone out, “What happened? Do I need to call Coran? Do I need to call 911?”

“Nope, I’m good. Everything’s a-okay here,” says Lance through gritted teeth as he finally manages to shake the crab off his nose and plop her into the nearest bucket.

“Lance… your nose…” Hunk frowns. His best friend’s swollen nose resembles a blotchy red strawberry against the smooth brown of the rest of his face.

“How bad does it look?” asks Lance.

“…bad,” Hunk responds apologetically.

“Have either of you seen Ezor?” Shay interrupts, walking over to her fellow counselors.

“Awwww maaaan,” Lance groans, throwing his hands up in the air, “not again!”

Hunk sighs in resignation, “I’ll call Coran…”

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna come say hi, I'm [Agapostemon](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!
> 
> Also: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


End file.
